


Scarecrow

by Iskavii



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Femslash, Post Face the Raven, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iskavii/pseuds/Iskavii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missy takes exception to other people breaking what she considers her toys and acts accordingly rash. </p><p>A post Face The Raven Fix-it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Toys

**Author's Note:**

> I knew at the start of the season that I'd probably end up wanting to write a fix-it fic....This wasn't the fic I intended to write. Somewhere I tripped and fell into the Missy/Clara pairing...I'm sure tumblr had something to do with it.
> 
> Basically a mock-season adventure starring Clara Oswald and the Mistress.
> 
> Not betaed or brit-picked.

1\. Broken Toys.

 

The Raven watched curiously, head cocked almost perpendicular to the line of its neck. A figure dressed in purple slipped out of the shadows and approached the body of the young woman crumpled in the center of the street. The lady in the purple coat strode a wide circle around the still form on the cobblestones, tightening the circumference with each revolution in the manner of a hunting shark. Finally seeming satisfied that the prone form was not likely to sit up unexpectedly, she stopped. The woman placed her hands on her hips, lips pursed. She clicked her tongue in a dissatisfied manner and nudged at a grey-clad shoulder with the toe of her boot. No movement. She gave a great sigh, looking entirely put upon.

“This simply won’t do, Puppy,” the woman in purple stated almost conversationally to the body. “Look at you, dead from your own foolishness.”

The Raven cawed loudly, and the lady turned to look at it for the first time.

“Yes, I know what you are,” she said, sauntering away from the body and over to the where the Raven sat in its cage. “I’m afraid I’m going to quite ruin your day.”

The Raven cawed again, mantling in warning as the lady pressed her face in close to the bars.

“Squawk at me all you like; no one gets to kill my Puppy but me,” she continued, ice-blue eyes leveling a challenge at the bird. “I don’t appreciate people playing with my toys without asking. It’s quite rude, you know?”

She jerked back, narrowly avoiding a vicious stab from the Raven’s beak. The lady tutted and shook her finger at the bird. Smirking, she danced back over the body. She knelt carefully and hefted the young woman into her arms before rising. The Raven screamed at her, throwing itself against the bars in a flurry of angry feathers. The lady in purple offered the bird a mock-sympathetic pout and vanished in a short flash of light. Her laughter echoing long after she was gone.

 

***

 

Missy had set her vortex manipulator with the coordinates of one of the myriad bolt-holes she had scattered throughout time and space. This particular one was an abandoned iron mine on an asteroid in the 53rd century. It had been some time since she had visited this particular hide out, certainly not since the Time War. Missy wrinkled her nose at the amount of dust her sudden arrival kicked up. The room had likely been a processing station for the mine at one point, but anything valuable left from the mining operation had been long since striped. Now it held only a long metal table along the far wall and a dessicated humanoid skeleton slumped near the door. Both were coated in thick layer of dust. Missy grinned at the body; a new addition since she’d been here last.

She didn’t come back often, but that didn’t mean she was going to let anyone help themselves to her space.

She moved over to the table, depositing her burden on it. Missy sneezed as Clara’s body disturbed more of the dust. The Time Lady glared at the body in annoyance. She hated sneezing. The mine wouldn’t have been her first choice of places if she had been only looking to lay low for a while, but she had stashed certain pieces of tech here that she would need if she was to fix her toy. Missy bent to heave a large metal chest out from under the table, sneezing several more times in rapid succession. She had full intentions of making the Puppy work off each and every inconvenience that she incurred while fixing things.

Missy opened the chest, pulling out several of the gadgets inside, before letting the lid bang shut again with a too-loud clang. She hummed absently under her breath as she set each instrument next the the body. A Sontaran Med-Scanner, a Chula battle-standard medical kit, and a rather nasty bit of ancient Gallifreyan tech from the days before regeneration, were laid out one by one across the table’s dusty surface. Death was something reserved for idiots too noble to be creative. It was not something that ever troubled the Mistress for long.

“Well, Puppy, tired of playing dead?” Missy mocked the body on the table.

She picked up the Sontaran scanner first. Clara wasn't physically wounded, so it should be a simple matter of restarting her electrical processes. Stupid fragile Humans. Missy was quite looking forward to the look on Clara’s face when she came to. A soft whirr of sound issued from the scanner followed by a string of angry beeps. Missy frowned and banged the device sharply on the edge of the table. She tried again. Another string of angry beeps.

The Mistress tossed the device aside with a disgusted sigh. The dust must have gotten into it.

“No matter, Puppy, can't expect quality from the Sontarans can we?” Missy tutted as she reached for the Chula med kit.

A flick of a switch and a swarm of nanobots surrounded the body. They hovered for a few moments before glow of the nanobots suddenly cut out. Another cloud of dust eddied up as a million tiny robots settled broken to the floor.

Missy snarled in rage, flinging the useless med kit at the skeleton by the door. It slumped sideways, sliding down to block the threshold. Leave it to the Puppy to make everything difficult. Missy was definitely keeping a tally, and the Puppy _would_ pay her back in full.

“Worthless sub-standard technology,” Missy muttered, smoothing her skirt to calm herself. “It only serves to prove the superiority of our technology doesn't it?”

Missy picked up the last bit of tech on the table. Unlike the nanobots, which could only repair damaged tissue, or the scanner, which was designed to jumpstart the major electrical processes of the body, this device acted on a cellular level. It wasn't perfect, and it certainly wouldn't be a pleasant experience for the Puppy, but Missy figured the human would be in no position to protest.

She’d likely be too busy screaming.

Missy twisted a couple tiny dials on the side of the oblong device, pleased when it hummed instantly to life. She spent a few minutes making minute adjustments as the display flashed different numbers at her. This wasn't something that had ever been adapted for human use before. The Time Lady suppressed a cackle as she envisioned the looks on the faces of the High Council if they could see what she was doing. Gallifreyan tech being wasted on a nano-brained human. The knowledge of their sure disapproval only egged her on.

Once satisfied with her calibration, Missy pointed the device at Clara.

A high-pitched whine, sounding like a thousand of the Doctor's infernal screwdrivers, filled the air. Clara’s body bowed up off the table, limbs jerking uncontrollably as the device continued to shriek. Missy watched, waiting for the moment Clara’s eyes opened and the human became aware of what was happening to her. A minute passed. Another followed. The ancient tech continued to scream. Clara’s body jerked and seized on the table.

Her eyes remained closed.

Missy threw the device against the wall so hard it shattered. Pieces of the ancient, priceless tech skittered off into the dusty fringes of the room, the Time Lady panting heavily in the ensuing silence.  Missy stalked over to Clara’s body. She grabbed a fistful of dark hair near the base of the human’s skull and hauled her up so she was snarling directly into the unresponsive face.

“Listen to me you ungrateful little bitch,” Missy hissed. “You will not thwart me. No one gets to kill you but me, so you will cease this stubborn nonsense this instant!”

The Time Lady released her grip. Clara’s head made a satisfying thunk as it fell limply back to the table. Missy sighed, placing her hands on her hips. It was wildly obvious that technology wasn’t going to fix this particular problem. There were two options left, both equally distasteful in the Mistress’s opinion. She could admit defeat, plot new coordinates in her vortex manipulator, and leave the Puppy to rot here with the skeleton of the trespasser. Missy knew that the sour taste of failure would linger with the resentment that she’d been one-up by an insubstantial bird. It made her furious to even have to contemplate.

The other option was, in it’s own way, worse. Regeneration energy would be enough to release even the iron grip of the quantum shade, but Missy wasn’t the Doctor. She had never been inclined to self-sacrifice which was exactly what using regeneration energy would be. True, the amount needed to bring a single human back would hardly equate to more than a few years off her own life. _Her own life_ was the part that Missy kept getting stuck on. She wasn’t a charity, giving away her belongings for hugs and sweets and she certainly wasn’t afflicted with the Doctor’s bleeding hearts. The Time Lady circled the make-shift bier in the same shark-like manner as before, weighing the options in her mind.

Was it really giving anything away though? Afterall, the Puppy was hers to begin with. The loan to the Doctor notwithstanding, it wasn’t like she was really giving something away. It hardly counted as more than a change of location if she considered it in that light. She was entitled to do what she liked with her own belongings.

Missy hesitated, fingers hovering talon-like over Clara’s head. The Puppy would be paying off this debt until the end of the universe, Missy would make sure of it.

Regeneration was never a comfortable process. It felt a bit like dipping every atom of the body in essence of poison ivy, an itch that went beyond pain into some other sensation entirely. It was better than dying outright, but the Mistress didn't enjoy the feeling of calling up her regeneration energy. Hands glowing golden, she placed them on Clara’s temples. The energy sank into the human’s skin and Missy stepped back, shaking her hands slightly to relieve them of the after-echo of sensation. Eyes narrowed, she watched for any sign that what she’d done had been effective.

Clara did not open her eyes, but her chest rose and fell. A single human heart began to beat, a steady, double-count sound in the Time Lady’s ears. Missy took a deep breath of her own and relaxed slightly.

 _There, all is as it should be,_ was the Time Lady’s first thought. That no one could ever know exactly what she’d done was the second.

“I won't have anyone thinking this sets a precedent, Puppy,” Missy told the unconscious human.

The uncomfortable feeling of having changed something irrevocably still lingered, an itch in the back of her mind. Missy cast about for something to distract herself. Her eyes drifted between Clara on the table and the skeleton slumped across the threshold, a wicked smile curving her lips. Nothing wrong with making her own entertainment while she waited for the Puppy to wake.

 

***

 

Eyes still closed to the world, Clara awoke with the bone-deep knowledge that she’d forgotten something desperately important. Every muscle in her body was stiff and screaming at her, each indrawn breath tasted of stale air and dust and nothing familiar. She was laying on something cold and hard, head turned the side at an uncomfortable angle that she felt too weary to change. What had she and the Doctor been doing? Last thing she remembered was climbing back into the TARDIS after the lake. She’d been exhausted and emotionally overwrought from the fear of the Doctor being dead but certainly not like this. Reluctantly, as even her eyelids protested movement, she opened her eyes.

Clara screamed.

Shadowed, empty eye sockets stared back at her from less than a few centimeters away. Clara tried to scramble away from the sight, unresponsive limbs succeeding in pitching her off the table she’d been lying on and down to the gritty floor. She lay there, horror and agonizing stiffness locking up arms and legs despite her desire to get far away from the decaying body she’d woken next to. Clara turned her face away from the rictus grin of death. Even that move to sent fresh agony shooting through her.

A delighted and wicked laugh echoed through the air at her flailing and Clara felt her blood run cold. She knew that voice. Black boots and the hem of a purple skirt entered her field of vision. Clara forced her head to turn again and looked up at where the Mistress stood above her.

“The look on your face,” the Time Lady cackled.

“What the hell, Missy? Where am I? Where’s the Doctor?” Clara gasped.

She struggled into a sitting position, trying to ignore Missy’s continued laughter. She was in a dim and dust-covered room, empty except for the skeleton in a spacesuit on the table and the amused Time Lady. No sign of the Doctor, TARDIS, or how she’d ended up here. The certainty of forgetting something grew.

“Aren't you pleased to see me, Puppy?” The Mistress mocked.

“Where. Is. The Doctor?” Clara repeated firmly.

There would be no further discussion until Clara knew he was safe.

Missy pouted slightly. “No sense of humor at all,” she scoffed.

“Missy!”

Clara wanted to get up and throttle the answer out the woman, worry for her best friend overriding everything. Everything except the ache of her muscles. She hurt so much. Why did she hurt so much?

“Please, is the Doctor okay?” Clara hated to beg.

Something that actually resembled genuine worry flashed for the briefest of moments in Missy’s eyes.  Clara felt her heart leap into her throat. She tried to remind herself that the woman before her lied as easy as breathing, but some instinct had her believing that momentary glimpse of concern.

“Missy, tell me he’s okay.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” the Time Lady enunciated slowly. “You cornered me, raving at the top of your lungs about the Doctor being kidnapped, and then you fainted. Terribly rude if you ask me.”

“Kidnapped?” Clara repeated. “I cornered you where exactly?”

“Not here, obviously,” Missy replied. “Or you’d be looking more like your bunk mate there.” She gestured at the skeleton.

Clara struggled to her feet, shaking from the effort. She hated how weak she felt. She wasn’t sure she could defend herself right now, and she was staring at the one being who probably scared her the most in the universe. The Time Lady was watching her closely, assessing her every movement. Ice-blue eyes with a predator’s focus all directed at her.

“What happened?” She growled as threateningly as she could.

Bluster was all the defense she had at the moment and they both knew it.

The Mistress rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you listen to nothing said to you? _I don’t know_. You begged me to help you find the Doctor, and then passed out. Completely useless. Typical, I suppose.”

“Found you where, Missy? How?” Clara pressed.

Something didn’t add up. _Nothing_ was adding up. Where was the Doctor?

The Mistress was the last person Clara could have imagined going to for help. Except, of course, if she was stranded out of her own time and there had been no other option. If the Doctor really was in trouble. Had something happened after the lake? Clara remembered crawling into bed on the TARDIS that night, not ready to leave the Doctor just yet with memory of his hologram ghost still fresh in mind, and then nothing. How much time was she missing?

“Well, alright, not found me, precisely. I was bored and following a signal and there you were, all alone and frantic.” Missy conceded.

“WHERE?” Clara yelled.

The Time Lady frowned at her.

“There is no call for shouting, dear, I can hear you just fine,” Missy chided. “Space station, 38th century, completely deserted save for you. I was hoping you’d be able to share the details when you regained consciousness, but I should have known better than to rely on your faulty nanobrain.”

Clara wanted to be offended, but mostly she was just scared. “I was on the TARDIS, the last thing I remember was falling asleep on the TARDIS.”

Missy titled her head to the side, pursing her lips in consideration. “And where were you before that?”

“Earth,” Clara replied. “We’d been in an underwater military base. It was 2119 the Doctor said and there were ghost that weren't actually ghosts, but we’d fixed that. Everything was okay.”

Missy shook her head. “That adventure was months back, my Clara. Admittedly I haven’t been keeping as close of tabs on you lately, with the Doctor still sulking from my little joke on Skaro, but that certainly wasn’t where I found you. You obviously have more holes in your brain than I thought.”

Clara wasn’t sure what to think about _that_ revelation. It wasn’t surprising to learn that Missy was basically stalking them, but it didn’t exactly fill her with joy either. Missing _months_ was another concern entirely.

“Okay, I’m going to ignore how creepy it is that you know that, and skip to asking where is the last place you know that we were?” Clara replied.

She was scared and exhausted and she really felt like she hurt too much to keep standing, but she wasn’t about to give Missy the satisfaction of looking up at her from the floor.

Missy opened her mouth and Clara held up a hand.

“Before the station you supposedly found me on,” Clara added.

Missy smirked at her. “Some silly mess with vikings, I believe. Really, Puppy, I’m not your datebook.”

Clara tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Okay, so take me back to where you found me. There has to be a clue there, right? Or maybe I’ll remember something.”

The sensible thing to do would be to demand to be taken home. The longer she was alone with Missy, the worse her odds of survival were likely to become. Except that quickly shuttered moment of concern kept popping into her mind. Clara didn’t have the Doctor here to rely on but if there was any truth to what Missy was saying, he very well could be relying on _her_.  She could trust Missy only about half as far as she could throw her, but, Clara knew she had little choice in that at the moment.

“You think I didn’t look?” Missy asked, arching an eyebrow at the human. “There was nothing. No TARDIS, no Doctor, no clues. Just you and a big empty station.”

“Why should I believe you?” Clara asked. “Why should I believe anything you’ve said to me? Last time I believed you about something you locked me inside a Dalek!”

Missy chuckled. “Yes, that was quite funny. Really, Puppy, I could care less about you believing me or not. I’ll drop you home right now, if you like, since you will obviously be no help in finding the Doctor with your memory.”

“No!” Clara bit her lip. “Lets just go back to the station. It might jog my memory, or we might find something to explain why I feel like I got hit by a lorry.”

She had to take the chance, for the Doctor’s sake.

Missy grinned devilishly, clapping her hands together and dancing a little in place. “Well, won’t this be fun? Another adventure with just us girls!”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Don’t expect me to braid you a friendship bracelet.”

“I’ve got one of my own,” Missy replied without missing a beat, holding up another vortex manipulator. “Sadly, it’s an older model than the ones we used on Skaro; has a four hour cooldown between hops. Substandard really, but what's a girl to do?”

The Time Lady sauntered over to Clara and slipped it on her right wrist. Clara tried not to flinch at the proximity. She had a feeling Missy caught it anyways, judging by the vicious delight in her eyes. She wound an arm around Clara’s waist in a move that Clara was sure was purely to make her uncomfortable.

“Deep breath, Puppy,” Missy sing-songed, and slapped her palm down on her own vortex manipulator.

The world seemed to twist in on itself as Missy sent them both spinning into the time vortex. Clara would have screamed again if there was air left.


	2. The Empty Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clara struggles with her lack of control and Missy realizes she may have not retrieved Clara's life as cleanly as she had hoped.

2\. The Empty Station.

 

Enraged didn’t begin to describe how Missy was feeling.

 

She’d been having a grand time leading the Puppy around by her nose. Missy suspected the missing memories would return eventually, a common side effect of the regeneration energy, but their absence had created the perfect opportunity to convince Clara of the sincerity of her little fib. Missy set the coordinates on their manipulators for the most recent place she knew that Clara had been with the Doctor prior to the troublesome business with the quantum shade.

“Whee!” Missy shouted as they exited the vortex with the usual lack of grace.

She dropped her arm from around Clara’s waist, cackling as the Puppy immediately fell to her knees. Missy had timed their arrival for mere seconds after Clara and the Doctor had left in the TARDIS. The station was shuddering and groaning around them as Neptune’s gravity worked to pull it apart. Missy half staggered over to the computer terminal and rebooted the gravity shields. The shaking began to stabilize, the moan of twisting metal settling back to a ringing silence. They’d landed in a t-junction of connecting hallways, the oriental designs on the walls told Missy enough of where and when they were. _Indo-Japanese_. Missy couldn't begin to figure why the Doctor would have wanted to come here in the first place. Tacky, everything was completely tacky.

She tapped at her wrist, checking the data. It had almost felt like something had tried to catch them during the hop. Missy clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“A twelve second margin of error. What rubbish.”

“Where the hell are we?” Clara asked, using the frame of a bulkhead door for support as she levered herself to her feet.

Missy imagined the Puppy was feeling quite under the weather still. Not that Clara was going to be allowed to catch her breath just yet.

“Anything look familiar?” Missy countered. “Go on, take a look around. I’ll wait.”

“Or you could, you know, help,” Clara muttered, looking around nevertheless.

Missy pulled out her compact and adjusted her lipstick. “This was your idea, dear. I've already looked.”

“Right, of course, and you don't miss anything,” Clara replied sarcastically.

The human turned and headed down the left hand corridor, stomping heavily to express her irritation. Missy grinned and skipped after her. She knew exactly who had taken the Doctor and why, but she saw no reason not to have a little fun before riding to his rescue. The look on his face when she turned up with the Puppy in tow was going to be priceless. She wanted to savor the anticipation a bit.

While she knew that the Doctor had been here, Missy had no idea exactly what had happened. She could guess, the Doctor’s adventures tended to follow a fairly specific pattern of fall into trouble and scramble back out of it again using a combination of his feet and his mouth. She’d seen it in practice plenty of times even back into their Academy days. The strange crunch of sand beneath her boots was definitely curious, however. Not something one usually discovered on a space station. Hopefully it would prove interesting enough to fill the four hours until the manipulators came off of cooldown.

At least she could count on the Puppy to be entertaining. She watched Clara’s growing frustration with each door that refused to open for her. _Someone_ seemed to be a little overly dependant on the Doctor’s sonic devices.

“Jogging any of those primitive brain cells yet?” Missy asked as the silence stretched out too long for her liking.

“Nothing yet,” Clara replied, glancing back over her shoulder at Missy.

The furrow to her brow and the way she kept staring into middle distance told Missy that the she was most likely lying. Naughty Puppy.

“Bit odd isn’t it?” Missy commented blandly as they continued on.

Clara stopped and turned back, folding her arms across her chest. Missy smirked at her, eyebrow raised in a challenge.

Clara sighed. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s odd?”

“Sand.”

Confusion etched itself across the human’s face.

“And what’s odd about sand, exactly?”

Missy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Clara! We’re in space; dust, maybe, but sand?”

Big brown eyes blinked and slid unfocused.

“Sandmen,” Clara blurted.

Missy tilted her head. “What was that, dear?”

“Nothing,” Clara backpedaled hastily. “Just an old song.”

Definitely lying. How adorable.

Missy grinned. “Remembering something, Poppet?”

“No!” Clara glared at Missy. “Let’s just keep moving, unless you’ve decided you actually want to help me.”

“I’m not the one who can’t remember anything,” Missy taunted in a singsong tone.

“Missy! If the Doctor is really in trouble…”

Missy waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, stop thinking so linearly. We’re time travelers; it hardly matters how long it takes us to find out what happened.”

“Well, at least I’m trying!” Clara snapped.

“Are you really? Don’t lie, Puppy. I know you’ve remembered something and haven’t told me.”

“Newsflash, Missy. We aren’t a team, we’re not friends, I don’t trust you.”

Missy pouted dramatically. “Now that’s terribly hurtful. And after all the nice things I’ve done for you.”

Clara stared at her, completely incredulous. _That_ was a delightful expression.

“You turned my boyfriend into a Cyberman and locked me _inside a Dalek_!”

“I also introduced you to the Doctor,” Missy reminded her.

Clara took at deep breath. “Look, just check one of the computer terminals and see if there is any security footage.”

“If you’re going to insist,” Missy huffed.

She sauntered over to the terminal next to the bulkhead door just in front of them. Missy watched out of the corner of her eye as Clara leaned up against the wall. If there was any security footage to be had, Missy needed to be sure to erase it before the Puppy saw. Missy hummed to herself as she tapped out commands on the display, deleting each bit of footage one by one. The Time Lady was taking special care to keep Clara off balance, not giving her any time to work through what had happened since she’d woken up. How long she could keep whisking the human forward before Clara worked things out? Missy was counting on the distraction of manufactured worry and looking for “clues” to muddle the human’s better judgment for now. Once all the footage she could find had been erased, she pulled up a loop of static for Clara to hear.

“Let me guess, it’s been erased,” Clara stated flatly.

“Yep,” Missy replied, loudly popping the ‘p.’

“Of course it has.”

“Well if I was going to kidnap someone I’d erase any evidence too,” Missy mused. “No sense in being sloppy.”

Missy could see Clara grinding her teeth against a response to that.

“Now what?” Clara asked tightly.

“Now we are back to relying on your spotty memory.” Missy poked the human hard in the forehead.

Clara glared at her and batted the finger away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Ooooh, someone’s grumpy today.”

Clara pushed herself away from the wall and went to move around the Time Lady who had deliberately invaded her personal space. It was really such fun to wind her up.

The Mistress’s amusement, however, came to an abrupt and unpleasant halt as Clara moved past her to continue their little excursion. A glimpse of black against pale skin below the shoulder length hair caught Missy’s attention instantly. She seized the Puppy by the arm, her other hand roughly tilting Clara’s head forward, trying to confirm what she had seen.

 **000** was still inscribed on the back of Clara’s neck.

Something _had_ felt like it was trying to catch hold of them in the time vortex, but Missy had dismissed it at the time in favor of upsetting the Puppy. Afterall, in most cases the notion of something following them that way was absolutely absurd. The quantum shade, it appeared, was unwilling to let it’s prize go.

That just wasn’t going to work for Missy at all.

 

***

 

Clara struggled wildly in the Time Lady’s bruising grip.

“Missy! Let me go!”

The sudden assault had caught Clara completely by surprise, even with her self-admonishment about keeping up her guard. She’d taken two steps around the Mistress, intending to lead them on down the hall, when her right arm had been grabbed in a painfully tight hold. Before Clara could even begin to react to the movement, Missy had forced her head down, exposing the vulnerable nape of her neck. Panic rose thick and fast in her throat, as weakened muscles proved ineffective at wrenching her free. She grit her teeth and kept trying. Today was _not_ going to be the day that Missy killed her.

As quickly as she had been grabbed, Missy released her.

Clara stumbled forward, slamming hard into the wall. She spun to face Missy, limbs still trying to lock up at the quick movement. The Mistress looked positively furious. Blue eyes were narrowed to mere slits, brow furrowed and red lips curled up into a snarl. Clara held her hands up in a defensive gesture, trying to edge down the hallway and put some space between herself and the enraged Time Lady.

“Missy?” Clara was proud that only a sliver of the fear she was feeling made it into her voice.

The Time Lady blinked, and all at once her expression smoothed out.

“Let’s see about getting one of these doors open, shall we?” Missy said, acting as if the last thirty seconds had not happened at all.

What _had_ just happened?

“What?” Clara managed.

“I thought you wanted to find clues, Puppy. Really, I don’t fancy staying here any longer than I have to,” Missy said, backtracking a few meters to one of the doors Clara had tried earlier.

Clara just stared after her, jaw working soundlessly.

She was torn between following Missy back down the hallway or staying as far from the Time Lady as possible for the moment. The practical considerations of keeping the Mistress in her line of sight, and the fact that Clara was dependant on her for transport won out. Clara reluctantly headed down the corridor after her. She could hear the computer terminal saying something in a language that made no sense to Clara at all. She mentally added the lack of the TARDIS translator to her list of things she was severely missing. Sane people was still ranking first. Her mobile was coming in a distant second.

“Wait, what the hell was that all about?” Clara demanded once she’d found her voice.

She was careful to keep a good bit of distance between them. Clara was already regretting not demanding to be taken home as soon as she woke up in the Mistress’s company. During their cursory search of the hallways Clara had been getting enough memory flashes to reluctantly concede that she and the Doctor truly had been here before, even if the details remained frustratingly out of reach. She was not, however, convinced that Missy hadn’t just flat out kidnapped her. Clara also privately admitted that the dim, red emergency lighting was probably contributing to the ambience of slasher film she was feeling. That, and the mass murder she was following around.

“What are you on about now?” Missy asked, appearing absorbed in coaxing the computer terminal by the door to let them in.

“Seriously?” Clara asked. “We’re not talking about you grabbing me back there?”

She eyed Missy side-long, trying to figure out what game she was playing this time.

Missy glanced over at Clara, lips pursed.

“I didn’t take you as the sort for tattoos, that’s all,” Missy said airily.

 _Okay, what?_ Clara blinked.

“Umm. I don’t have any tattoos.”

“The back of your neck begs to differ, my dear.” Missy replied, stepping back as the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Clara’s hand immediately flew up to cover her nape. She made an abortive move to try and look over her shoulder at it before common sense informed her it wasn’t going to happen.

“I didn’t get any tattoos. Missy, what is it?” Clara scrambled through the doorway after the Mistress.

Missy was looking around at what could be seen of the darkened room. “Some sort of laboratory.”

“The tattoo, Missy! What is my tattoo?”

“Tacky,” Missy replied, making her way over to one of the diagnostic machines.

Clara couldn’t help the inarticulate noise of frustration that escaped. She took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head. It was amazing how often the techniques she used when dealing with a classroom of unruly children seemed to apply to dealing with Time Lords.

“Has it occurred to you that it might have something to do with what happened to the Doctor?” Clara tried again.

“Well of course it has,” Missy replied, finally turning away from her study of the machinery in the lab. “but three zeros is hardly informative.”

Clara took a moment to absorb that.

“Great, so apparently I have a prison tattoo I don’t remember, my best friend is missing and I’m joined at the wrist to a complete nutjob until we find him,” Clara muttered under her breath. “I’m not going to ask what else could go wrong.”

“Probably a good idea,” Missy called out over her shoulder as she moved deeper into the dark room. “That would be _quite_ the list.”

Clara decided ignoring Missy was the best option for now, at least in terms of preserving her own sanity.

The lab turned out to be much bigger than it had appeared from the doorway, most of it shrouded in shadow where the emergency lighting didn’t run. It definitely looked familiar to Clara, _felt_ like she’d seen it all before, but there was nothing in those disjointed flashes of memory that seemed to help her piece together what had happened. To the Doctor or to herself. Towards the back of the room they came upon a row of pods and Clara felt a shiver of fear slip down her spine. She took an unconscious step closer to Missy and away from the pods.

Something which did not escape the Time Lady’s notice.

“Scared, Poppet?” Missy mocked.

“I don’t like those things,” Clara replied. “They aren’t good. I know they aren’t good.”

“Oh! Finally willing to admit you’re remembering something?”

“I think one tried to grab me, you know, before.”

Clara could feel Missy’s eye roll.

“They’re just sleep pods, Clara.”

“Something came out of them,” Clara continued slowly. “Monsters. Sandmen.”

Clara saw the flash-image of a hulking shape in her mind, humanoid only in the broadest definition of the word. An arm disintegrating as a door slammed shut on it. The Doctor complaining about not getting to name something.

“Well judging by the hallways, I’d say they’ve been more or less disintegrated.” Missy dismissed.

“Are you going to ignore everything I say?” Clara asked, stress wearing her temper thin. “Wasn’t the point of us being here for me to try and remember things?”

“You asked to come here, dear. Not my idea.”

Clara was winding up to say something else when a searing pain burned across the back of her neck. Both hands rose to curl protectively about her nape, the skin underneath her fingers suddenly feeling unnaturally hot.

She yelped in alarm. “It’s burning me!” 

Missy was at her side before Clara had even finished the sentence. She pulled Clara’s hands away and shoved her head forward again. Her other arm curled around Clara’s waist to hold her in place.

“I don’t think so,” Missy growled lowly.

The hand on the back of Clara’s head moved. Clara watched in the periphery of her vision as Missy pulled something out of her coat pocket, the object itself obscured by the angle and her hair. Cold metal was pressed against her neck, followed by the sensation of being stabbed by a thousand needles wherever it had touched. Clara had to bite her lip hard to stop herself from crying out. The needle-pain faded out only to be replaced by full body shudders she could not control. Even screaming was denied to her. Missy dropped whatever device she had used and Clara heard it clatter across the floor. That arm now free, Missy pressed it against Clara’s clavicle, drawing the human back against her as Clara continued to seize. Distantly Clara was aware of Missy humming softly, the position placing the Time Lady’s lips next to her ear. Clara focused on the noise instead of the terrifying sensation of having no control over her body.

Slowly the shudders eased off, and Clara hung limp in Missy’s grip. A fresh ache settled into Clara’s muscles, her chest tight enough that every breath was a struggle. Missy continued to hum soothingly in Clara’s ear. She didn’t fight the proximity, concentrating on not hyperventilating. Her pounding heart settled gradually back into it’s normal rhythm. Eventually, Clara managed to gather herself enough to pull away, Missy releasing her without protest.

“There, that’s better,” Missy said, stooping to retrieve the dropped device and slipping it back into the pocket of her coat.

Clara licked at her lips, tasting blood from a split on the bottom one.

“Did my tattoo just try to kill me?” She asked hoarsely, turning to face Missy again.

“Try to focus on the fact it didn’t,” Missy advised.

“Yeah, I’m thrilled about that...but how, exactly?” Clara pressed.

Missy shook her head, hands on her hips. “The questions just never end with you do they?”

The Mistress had already started moving towards the door back into the corridor, fiddling with her vortex manipulator as she went.

“Two more hours and then we are gone, Puppy,” she said to Clara as she walked away.

It was becoming apparent that Missy knew exactly what Clara’s tattoo meant. It was equally apparent that the Time Lady was not willing to discuss it. Judging by her reaction to seeing it in the hallway, something about it had definitely rattled Missy. When Clara considered that only time she had ever seen Missy look truly afraid was when she had first realized that they had followed the Doctor to _Skaro_ , Clara wasn’t inclined to just let the matter lie.

“I think I’m entitled to ask a few questions! Is that going to happen again?” She demanded, chasing after Missy.

“If it does, obviously I can fix it.”

“That really hurt, Missy!”

“Would you rather I let you die, then?” The Mistress asked scathingly. “Please let me know before I waste more effort.”

Clara shook her head hastily. “No, sorry. And thank you, I guess, for whatever it was you did.”

Thank you was not a phrase Clara could have ever imagined saying to Missy.

“Oooh, there’s some gratitude. Better late than never I suppose.”

“I just want understand what’s happened to me,” Clara explained. “You don’t exactly make things easy on a person.”

Missy snorted. “Why would I want to make things easy on you? We aren’t friends, as you are so quick to point out.”

“No,” Clara agreed. Friends was something Clara couldn't imagine them ever being. “But we are going to have to work together if we’re going to find the Doctor. Let’s agree to try to be civil, at least?”

Missy stopped walking, pursing her lips in consideration. Her gaze danced across Clara’s face.

Clara held out her hand to shake. “Deal?”

The Mistress eyed the outstretched appendage dubiously. “I don’t shake hands.”

“Missy!”

“Oh fine, whatever you like.”

Missy walked away without shaking her hand. Clara decided to take what victories she could.

Clara could only hope that she’d eventually manage to convince Missy to tell her exactly what the tattoo meant, but she was willing to extend a little bit of trust for now. Missy didn’t appear to be very keen on letting it do anything to Clara, which was weirdly reassuring and mostly confusing.

When they found the Doctor again Clara was going to demand to go to some relaxing spa planet. One without an alien crisis happening. 

"Do try to keep up!" Missy yelled back to her.

Clara deservedthat much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the end of the setup, next we move into more of the actual plot.
> 
> This chapter fought me a lot. I think I rewrote it about four times.


	3. A Silent Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clara begins to wonder how fast Stockholm Syndrome sets in, Missy is preoccupied with a bell, and the locals are in more trouble than they realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, between Family and a car crash, posting last week just didn't happen.

3\. A Silent Bell

 

Missy was a bit startled at exactly how complicated the logistics of keeping a single human alive was turning out to be. Clara needed to eat more often than her, sleep more. An annoyance which became infinitely more complicated when one had to move every four hours before their little stalker caught up with them. Pets were so much work. She couldn't fathom why the Doctor kept getting new ones. The Puppy, of course, was an exception to this for several really valid reasons that Missy was trying to very hard recall at this moment. 

“Missy, can we please, please stop?” Clara panted. 

She stood with her hands on her knees and breathing like she had just run a marathon. Her grey sweater and pants had been traded out for a one-piece khaki flight suit and a bulky canvas jacket from one of their more recent stopovers. Not as fashionable as the human’s usual outfits, but more practical for the amount of rough camping they’d been doing.

“Sure we can stop, Poppet, if you like to go through the the same thing that happens every time we stop,” Missy replied in an overly sweet tone. 

Missy had let them linger for longer than the manipulators’ cooldown only once. Just shy of hour six the quantum shade had tried to lock onto it’s mark again. Clara suddenly screaming out in her sleep had been the only alert that they’d overstayed. Missy had kept them moving after that, formulating a hasty plan to gain them some breathing room. First she needed to solve the brand detection problem, then she could figure out how to get rid of it. 

“Missy, I need to sleep!” 

“You just slept.”

“Yes, four days and twenty-four planets ago! For three hours!” Clara shouted. 

Missy sighed in an aggrieved manner. “You are so much work!”

Clara threw her hands up in exasperation and stalked over to a nearby tree. Dropping the large backpack that contained all of the supplies Missy had acquired for her by the trunk, Clara sat down beneath it. She crossed her arms and glared defiantly at Missy. The Time Lady had no idea what Clara hoped to accomplish with the move. It was endearingly ineffective. 

Missy took the momentary silence to assess where they had landed this time. Ghaul was a human colony planet in this time period, mostly agricultural. They had landed in an orchard of some nature it seemed, which meant there was a settlement close by. Perfect. She wandered over to get a closer look at the tree Clara was leaning against. 

“Oh, voune fruit trees! Lovely,” Missy cooed. 

“Can I eat it?” Clara asked wearily.

Missy raised an eyebrow at her. “The whole tree? I'm fairly certain you can't.”

Clara groaned and let her head fall back against the trunk. “I really hate you.”

Missy pouted at her. 

“So where are we and why are we here?” Clara sighed, brushing some of her bangs back out of her eyes. 

“Ghaul, and I was hoping to solve your little sleep problem.” Missy replied.

Clara sat up. “Really? How?” She made a face. “If you think I am getting in anything that resembles that sleep pod…”

“No, no. I have a much better solution in mind,” Missy dismissed. “Up you get, Puppy, we aren't going find what we need here!”

Clara groaned again and started pushing herself to her feet. Missy turned on the spot, reaching out with her telepathy to locate the nearest mass of minds. It was close, good. They couldn't afford to dawdle. The localized temporal distortions she’d been using to confuse the quantum shade wasn't really a long term solution. The trauma it caused to the human’s system could kill her just as easily as that stupid bird.

“Hurry up!” Missy set off in the direction of the settlement.  Maybe she could out run the next barrage of questions.

Clara cursed as she had to jog to catch up. 

“So what is your plan exactly?” Clara asked as soon as she’d drawn level with Missy.

“Are you going to insist on knowing everything?” Missy snapped. 

“I haven't asked about the tattoo again, have I?” Clara countered. 

“Ooh, someone's feeling sassy today.”

Missy shook her head, fighting back a smile at the Puppy’s stubborn determination. It was exhausting to find herself flipping back and forth from amusement to irritation at Clara’s antics, but at least it wasn’t dull.

“So?” Clara prompted. 

“Well, I need two things really.  The energy field generator should be simple enough, those are a dime a dozen in this time,” Missy replied. 

“...and the second thing?”

“Will be a teensy bit more difficult, but we’ll worry about that later.” 

“That sounds oddly like Time Lord for I don't actually have a plan,” Clara noted. 

Clever Puppy. “Don't fret, Poppet, I’ll look after you.”

Clara huffed. “The scary part is I almost believe that.”

Missy laughed and sped up her pace a little bit more just to be spiteful. 

Up ahead, in the direction of the settlement, a bell began to toll. It’s tone rang out steady and ominous as they approached the first of the buildings. It was higher than the mournful tolling of the cloister bells, but near enough to twist Missy’s mouth in distaste. She added finding that bell and dropping it on someone to her list of things to do. 

 

***

 

Ghaul was in the running for Clara’s new favorite planet, though it wasn't because of the sights. 

It was, admittedly, beautiful. Soft white sunlight had sparkled down through navy colored leaves veined in silver as she and Missy had made their way through the orchard. The town of Hath looked like an art gallery in and of itself. All the buildings were made from a bright copper colored metal. Roofing tiles were twisted into elegant shapes and etched designs on the walls widening out into abstract windows and glass doors. They had arrived during some kind of market festival. Streamers of shimmery, brightly colored cloth hung from every house and building and the main roadway was lined with long tables laden with fresh produce, baked goods, and trinkets both handmade and not. 

The noise of the marketplace swelled around Clara as she trailed a few steps behind Missy. The sounds of voices and laughter rang through the air, the locals seemingly all in high spirits. A few called out boisterous greetings to her and Missy, who returned them politely. None of it, of course, in any language Clara understood. She sighed slightly and sped up until she was walking beside Missy again. 

The Time Lady was weaving in and out of the rows of tables, explaining to Clara a bit about the planet’s history as they walked. Missy was on about how the humans had colonized Ghaul after the indigenous species had died out. They’d apparently gotten caught in some sort of interplanetary war that Missy’s smug expression lead Clara to suspect she’d been heavily involved in starting. Apparently they were more interesting to the Time Lady than the later human colonists, however, as she started talking about how all their technology interfaced telepathically since they apparently lacked in both mouths and thumbs in the last stage of their life cycle. Clara decided not to think too deeply about how that worked. Missy was only lecturing to keep the conversational reins away from Clara for the moment. Which was fair enough, considering. Clara’s pleading look did get Missy to stop long enough to pick up a couple of the silvery voune fruits. Clara ate four of the sticky-sweet pomes in rapid succession, licking her fingers clean after the last. She was still hungry. Missy finally stopped her seemingly random meander through the tables at a booth that held a lot of unidentifiable tech. 

The sartorial fashion of Hath seemed to be some sort of neo-Victorian revival, which meant that Missy fit in perfectly and Clara stood out like a sore thumb. The tech vendor ignored Clara completely, but hurried straight over to Missy. Clara wasn't surprised. Missy had a presence that screamed aristocrat in any setting and the proprietor looked very eager to make a sale. He was a gangly fellow, dressed in a dark suit and bowler hat. He had a mustache that was too-large to suit his face and his eyes tracked Missy’s movements with a greedy sort of calculation. The locals appeared more interested in the produce and baked good tables than the piles of tech at his booth. Clara’s growling stomach agreed with their priorities. Missy ignored the man, returning his enthusiastic introduction with a show of aloof politeness. 

Clara tried not to give into the temptation to roll her eyes at Missy theatrics. 

The Time Lady picked up a few pieces turning them over, head cocked to the side as if considering their usefulness. Missy turned to study Clara for a moment before finally looking up to properly acknowledge the hopeful proprietor hovering near by. She addressed the man in the clipped sounding local tongue. He nodded, quickly ducking under the table and pulling out another piece of alien tech. He offered it to Missy with a beaming salesman’s smile.

The device was roughly the size of a cell phone, thin and flat with a large, glowing purple cabochon on it. Missy looked it over and asked the vendor something, using the device to gesture at the other tech she had been looking over. He responded with what Clara could only assume was the price. Missy gave him a completely disdainful look and made as if to turn away. The proprietor hurriedly recanted whatever he had previously said, eyes widening in fear of what looked like his only sale of the day wandering away.

Satisfied, Missy selected two of the pieces she had been looking at, laying them alongside the one the vendor had brought out. She took a moment to dig in the pockets of her long purple coat, producing a small data chip which she handed over to the vendor. He scooped up and hastily tucked it into his own pockets, burbling what was clearly false flattery at an indifferent Missy. Clara very firmly stopped herself from speculating how Missy had come by the currency in the first place. 

Missy moved a few paces further down the row of tables before pausing in a break where the entrance to side alley had been left unobstructed. She turned to Clara and offered her the device with the glowing purple cabochon. 

“Here you are, Poppet, just for you,” Missy said pleasantly.

Hesitantly, Clara accepted the object, trying to guess at its purpose. Missy tucked the others away in her bottomless coat pockets.

“This is going to help with the sleep thing?” Clara asked dubiously, turning it over in her hands.

Missy stared at her for a moment before cracking up with laughter. 

Apparently not. Clara huffed, annoyed again, but was more or less obliged to just wait it out.  _ She  _ didn’t see what was so funny about the question. 

“It’s a telepathic translator, Puppy,” Missy replied when she’d gotten herself back under control.

“Really?” Clara asked, irritation replaced with surprised excitement. “How do I use it?”

In the relative week and a half that they had been traveling together, Missy had mostly kept them to uninhabited locations. Eventually, Clara’s complaints about hunger and a desperate desire for a change of clothes forced them to seek out civilization. Unfortunately, none of those places had been 21st century Earth. English in a form Clara understood had not been spoken. That left Missy as Clara’s only conversational option; a fact that had been rapidly straining their already thin truce. 

“Traditionally, it’s clipped onto your clothing so people can see you are wearing it and know you need it, but as long as it’s close it should function. Mind you, it’s a one way translator—unless they have one, you’ll still be speaking gibberish to them,” Missy added in the tone people used when addressing someone not considered terribly bright. 

Clara hardly cared, she could  _ understand _ other people again. 

“How do I turn it on?”

“That tiny knob on the side, one click, there. Any further past that and you’ll start hearing all sorts of things.”

Clara clipped it to her shirt, hastily switching it on and suddenly the unintelligible mass of noise in the marketplace resolved into the drone of recognizable conversation. Clara stood there for a moment and just let it wash over her. She hadn’t realized just how badly she’d missed that ability until now. The sense of creeping isolation fell away. Caught up in the sheer amount of joy that bubbled up, Clara impulsively darted forward and hugged Missy as she would have the Doctor.

The Time Lady went instantly rigid in Clara’s arms.

Clara pulled back at once, trying to gage just how badly she’d crossed a line by Missy’s face. The Mistress was wearing an expression Clara had only seen once or twice on the Doctor’s face. Usually when he’d been surprised by something completely outside his experience and couldn’t quite decide how he felt about it. Which, in most cases, amounted to the nuances of human social interaction. He usually responded with either baffled stuttering or rude commentary, but Missy was a far more volatile personality. 

“Sorry, I just got…um, thanks, for the translator,” Clara mumbled, face flushing hotly.

As aloof as Missy could be it wasn’t as if they didn’t touch, but physical contact between them had always been on Missy’s terms. Mostly because Clara hadn’t been overly fond of being that close to Missy to begin with. Clara had been operating under the rather silly delusion that maintaining a few inches of personal space would make being around the Time Lady less dangerous. She hoped that her momentary lapse of sanity hadn’t offended Missy enough to provoke her ire. Clara was sort of relying on Missy to keep breathing at the moment, after all. 

The Time Lady was studying her intently and Clara tried not to fidget under the sharp gaze. The Doctor stared at people like that sometimes, as if he could assess their very soul. Eventually, Missy seemed to decide that nothing traumatic had actually happened and settled on arching an eyebrow at Clara and smirking slightly.

“Well, if I’d known you were that easy, Poppet...” Missy mocked her.

“Shut up,” Clara mumbled, letting out relieved breath. 

Rude commentary it was. 

Missy just cackled at her. “Come, Puppy, there is a lodging house not too far. I’m going to need some workspace.”

Clara didn't ask what the workspace was for, assuming it had to do with the other devices Missy had picked up and having no desire to press her luck with more questions. She was also unwilling to risk Missy changing her mind about a location that likely contained an actual bed. 

“Great, I’m dying to get off my feet,” Clara said instead.

What had she been thinking, hugging the Mistress? Clara hugged people often enough, but that was people she actually  _ liked _ . Though there was a sort of forced tolerance between her and Missy at the moment, Clara wouldn't go so far as to label it in the family of affection. With her still shaky memory and no leads on the Doctor, Clara felt Stockholm Syndrome was a bit more accurate to the situation. 

Missy regally swept off down the street again leaving Clara to follow with far less grace. Her feet really did hurt. Missy didn't do still for very long, she'd discovered. And Clara had thought the Doctor was bad.

 

***

 

Missy had gotten them a single room to share for the dual reasoning of she had no need to sleep yet herself and she needed to keep the Puppy close by in case the quantum shade tried to lock onto its little brand again. Clara had immediately flopped face down on the bed with an indecent noise and without even bothering to remove her boots. She had yet to move. Missy kept glancing over periodically to insure that the human was still breathing. A little metal desk in the corner with a matching stool had been appropriated as a worktop, bits of wiring and parts scattered across it as Missy worked to retrofit a standard energy field generator, designed mostly to keep biting insects away from hikers, to generate a temporal field instead. It was going to take longer than their usual four hour time limit. Missy hoped that she could complete it before the quantum shade could trace them again. Provided she could get ahold of the proper power source.

_ And provided someone could shut that cursed bell up! _

Missy scowled in the direction of the window. Honestly, there was plenty of tolerable music playing down amongst the market tables and Missy couldn’t quite figure out why the locals thought that the unsettling toll of that bell was an appropriate accompaniment. Really, they were lucky she had experience with drowning out repetitive annoying sounds. 

One of the devices on the table beeped, drawing her attention back to the worktop. She picked up the scanner and checked the read out. Dropping the small sensor amidst the piles of junk on the vendor’s table had probably been the easiest bit of sleight of hand in Missy’s life. She and the Doctor used to make a contest out of pick pocketing their teachers and Missy felt it was a waste of her considerable talents. A wicked smile curved her lips as the display flashed data at her. Just as she had suspected. Perfect. 

An hour later, a reluctant grumble announced Clara’s return to consciousness. Despite Clara’s complaints, between the sleep pod and the leftovers of regeneration energy still kicking about in her system, the human didn't need more than a couple hours of sleep at a time. That buffer wasn't going to last much longer however, so it was for the best that Missy was almost finished with her retrofitting. 

“How long?” Clara mumbled into the bedsheets. 

“Three hours. I’m nearly done,” Missy replied without turning around. 

Some shuffling sounds came from the direction of bed. Clara’s face moved into the periphery of Missy’s vision. Missy did a momentary double take and then lost it. Clara’s dubious choice of sleeping positions had left her face pressed into the fabric of the blankets and now bore the imprints of the wrinkles and weaves all across it. The way her hair was sticking up slightly on the left only added to the image. Clara scowled at her, which only made Missy laugh harder. 

“Your face!” Missy howled between breaths.

Clara’s hands flew up to her cheek, feeling the indents across the left side for herself. 

“Oh, shut up,” Clara muttered crossly, rubbing at her face. “Glad I could amuse you.”

Missy tried to rein herself in only because her spasms of hilarity were beginning to threaten the continued integrity of the devices on the table. She wiped at her eyes and had to bite her lips to keep from laughing until blood flow had undone most of the patterning on the human’s face. 

“What is all this stuff?” Clara asked, eyes sweeping across the scraps littering the worktop. “It doesn't look like any of those things had the same insides. Is any of that even compatible?”

Missy shrugged. “That’s a matter of opinion. I once built a whole rocket out of less compatible material than this lot. Mind you, I was stuck at the End of the Universe and I had to work with what I had. The less said about that whole debacle the better.”

“Did it blow up?”

“Pardon?”

“The rocket, did it blow up?” Clara repeated. 

Missy paused, thoughtful. “You know, I have no idea. The Doctor came along and interfered and I just stole his TARDIS instead.”

“You stole the TARDIS?”

“Obviously, the Doctor stole it back.”

Clara just shook her head. “I will never be able to wrap my brain around you two. So, is your mysterious anti-tattoo machine finished?”

Missy picked up the retrofitted field generator. It didn't look like much, a dull, pot metal colored tube hanging from a lanyard. Part of the side was still open, displaying the internal wiring and the empty fitting awaiting the last piece.

“The easy part is,” Missy replied. “I need a certain crystal to power it, however.”

“One that is extremely rare I suppose,” Clara guessed. “But you wouldn't have brought us here if you didn't think you could find it.”

Missy beamed at her. “Good, Clara, very good. Actually there is one back with the second hand tech vendor.”

“Why didn't you just pick it up earlier?” 

“Well, it may be outlawed by three or four separate conservation treaties. He certainly wasn't going to admit to having it, let alone sell it to me.” Missy admitted. 

Clara nodded thoughtfully, wandering over to where she had dropped her backpack to retrieve her hairbrush. Missy scowled slightly as the human forwent the delicate route and proceeded to roughly drag the brush through her hair. They need to have a talk about that at some point. 

“So, are you going to set up a secret meeting to buy it from him? Is that why we got the room?” Clara asked.

“Don't be absurd, I’m not made of money you know. He has a room here as well, I plan to just take it tonight.”

“And what happens if he catches you?”

“That won’t be a concern,” Missy replied wickedly.

 

***

 

It took Clara a few second to work out exactly what Missy meant by that. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she realized exactly what the Time Lady was planning. She couldn’t let it happen.

“No. Missy, no. Absolutely not.” Clara shook her head frantically. “No killing, you hear me?”

The Mistress flashed her a dangerous look. The woman who had been laughing at her sleep-lined face minutes ago had been replaced again by the ageless predator.

“Oooh, and how exactly do you plan on stopping me, Poppet?” Missy drawled.

“I’ll warn him, warn someone!” Clara hissed, arms crossed.

“And then we’d never get that crystal. That would put you in quite the position wouldn’t it?” Missy countered in a falsely pleasant tone.

“I don’t care! Please, Missy, no killing anyone,” Clara pleaded, moving to place herself between Missy and the door.

“Bark, bark,” Missy mocked, scathingingly.

Clara need a plan, something to convince the Time Lady to change her mind. How? Appealing to Missy’s better nature wasn’t an option, certainly, but maybe appealing to her ego  _ was _ . Her stomach roiled.  _ Think, Clara, think! _

“You always go on about how clever you are, don’t tell me you can’t think of a way to get that crystal without killing anyone.” Clara challenged.

Missy just laughed. “Are you trying to manipulate me, Puppy? That’s adorable.”

Clara moved forward, kneeling down in front of Missy’s stool. “Yes, yes, I am. Because I don’t want someone to die just so I can sleep for a few extra hours. I know you don’t care about things like that, but I do. Please, Missy, let’s find another way.” 

She looked up at Missy, hoping against hope that somehow she could stop this from spiraling out of control. If she had any control left over this situation. The Time Lady met her stare for stare and Clara refused to blink away the tears she felt gathering in the corners of her eyes. 

The silence grew teeth in the space between them, then snapped.

“Why must you be so much work?” Missy threw her hands up in irritation. “Fine, if you insist on doing it your way, you can come up with the plan.”

Relief broke across Clara like a cool wave. She let out a long breath, and then another.

“Thank you,” she said to Missy, completely sincere.

Missy snorted. “Oh, put your big eyes away, time’s wasting. It’s just as well; I can hardly think around that bloody bell.”

Clara was in the process of getting back to her feet and shot Missy a confused look.

“What bell?”

“The one that has been ringing non-stop since we got to this continuous rust-problem of a town,” Missy said sourly, glaring out of the room’s tiny trapezoidal window.

Clara cocked her head to listen. She could hear the marketplace below; shrieking children, conversations, and folk music all a steady presence. There was no bell.

“I don’t hear a bell,” Clara said, a touch apologetically given Missy’s mood.

Missy gave her a sharp look. “You must, it’s plain as daylight!” She stood up and gestured towards the window.

Clara shook her head. “Sorry, I can hear music…”

“Not that! A bell! A big, iron bell, probably complete with it’s own hunchback,” Missy insisted.

“I can’t hear it,” Clara repeated.

She swallowed hard, the momentary relief of a few moments ago draining away to leave ice water in her veins instead. Missy was staring at her with that same look that Clara had caught so briefly on her face back on Skaro. 

Fear. Missy was  _ afraid. _

As if trouble had summoned trouble, Clara felt her tattoo start to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger....?
> 
> I have a plan!
> 
> Stay tuned for part two of this adventure next week.
> 
> /hides under the covers.


	4. Warning Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a crystal is acquired, a bell is found, and there is a minor shake up in the order of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a tranistional chapter where the foundation of their relationship to each other is starting to shift.

  1. Warning Song



 

Missy sat on the bed of their room. Clara’s prone form lay sprawled across it with her head pillowed on Missy's lap. The human’s soft breathing was a labored, unsteady sound beneath the constant noise of the ringing bell. The temporal distortion had taken a harsh toll on the human this time. Missy would be stunned if Clara managed survive procedure again. Focused on the logistics of acquiring the thaline crystal, Missy felt she was doing a commendable job of ignoring her own panic. She didn't panic, she made _other_ people panic.

Clara whimpered slightly in her unconsciousness and Missy absently smoothed down her hair. The original plan for obtaining the crystal was back on the table, since the Puppy was in no position to raise a protest at the moment. Missy considered it again for a few moments before discarding it. It was the easiest option, but going through with it would make the remainder of the time she was forced to deal with the Puppy more tedious than Missy cared for. Time for option two then.

Missy removed Clara’s head from her lap, gently lowering it to the mattress as she stood. The Puppy was safe enough for now, and Missy estimated that she had a while before Clara would regain consciousness. She would take care of the crystal business first, before the human could raise another ridiculous moral protest over her methods. Gathering up her nearly complete field generator Missy swept out the door. Time to pay a second visit to that silly little street vendor.

Then she was going to find that bell and drop it on Clara’s head for being deliberately difficult.

The planet Ghaul was spinning on towards sunset. Already many of the vendors had covered their wares and engaged their security fences, satisfied with the day’s sales and ready to head back to home or lodgings for the night. Missy swept by them all, ignoring the few “good evenings” called to her. The tech vendor, unsurprisingly, was still open and hopeful. He gave Missy a nervous look as she strode up to his table.

“May I help you, ma’am? Were the items not to your satisfaction?” He asked hurriedly.

Missy sniffed. “Adequate, but that's not why I'm here. I have proposition for you, my good fellow.” She flashed him a wicked smile. “An offer I know you won't want to refuse.”

She could practically see his ears perk up at the implication of more money. Pathetic.

“An offer, ma’am?”

Missy nodded, making a great show of looking around and leaning in slightly further. Everyone nearest had already packed up for the night it seemed. Wonderful.

“Just between us,” she added conspiratorially.

“I would be delighted to hear this offer, ma’am.” The vendor said eagerly.

Missy looked around again and then beckoned the man closer with a crooked finger. Just a little bit closer. The man obediently, and foolishly, leaned forward. Missy smirked and seized the man by his temples, using her telepathy to lock down his mind as soon as she made contact. Mass hypnosis was a comparatively easy thing to accomplish, one on one full telepathic control was worlds trickier. Missy knew she was disgustingly out of practice as well, but at this moment her reason for abstaining was already moot.

The sound of the ringing bell seemed to swell louder and Missy had to force the noise back. The human was fighting her, of course, the desperate struggle of the rabbit in the jaws of the wolf. The bell kept ringing and Missy was forced to give up trying to quiet it for the moment; she couldn't afford the divided concentration. She was embarrassingly rusty at this.

 _Stop fighting and hush,_ Missy thought at him. _Cooperate and you can go home tonight, safe and with no memories I even existed. Struggle and I will leave you a drooling vegetable for the rest your miserable existence. Clear?_

She felt his struggles abruptly cease, his mind open wide to her. It was incredibly dull.

 _Good boy,_ Missy thought smugly.

She took the opportunity to dig in the psychic hooks where she needed them and released the man’s head. She made a disgusted face at the sweat on her hands, wiping it on his jacket.

“Alright,” she said conversationally to the man staring blankly ahead. “You are going to turn around and open up that little lock box of yours.”

Robotically the vendor swung around to do exactly that. Once the psychic hooks were in place her commands were absolute. The bell rang in perfect time with his jerky motions. Missy fought back a shudder of revulsion.

“And you are going to pull out that lovely little thaline crystal I know you have hidden away in there and bring it back to me,” she continued.

Like a badly strung marionette the vendor turned back around with a cloth drawstring pouch clutched in one had. A stream of drool was forming under one corner of his mustache and he had left the lock box door wide open behind him, Missy noted critically. She was even more out of practice than she had thought. He stiffly raised up his arm, offering the pouch to Missy.

“For me? You shouldn't have, dear. I couldn't possibly accept.” Missy simpered as she tugged the little bag free from his hand.

She tugged it open to peer inside, a wide smile curving her lips as she took in the contents. _Two_ golden thaline crystals lay nestled in the dark cloth.

“Well you are quite the naughty boy, aren't you?” She murmured.

Missy closed the pouch tightly and tucked it away in an inside pocket of her coat. It was best to keep those things separate from the electronics until installed. She liked trouble as much as the next girl, but not so much she’d risk ruining her coat for no reason.

Missy smirked at the man. “Now, you are going to stand there and count backwards to zero from, oh, let's say a hundred. When you reach zero, you’ll be able to move again and will have forgotten you ever saw me, blah blah blah, you get the point.”

She started to walk away, paused, and turned back. She reached into his pocket and retrieved the credit chip she’d given him earlier.

“No sense in leaving you with this if I was never here,” Missy reasoned.

She walked away, humming loudly in an attempt to drown out the insistent tolling. The vendor stood frozen where she left him, arm still outstretched, as night began to fold in around the town.

  


***

 

Clara woke with a start. She’d been having a nightmare, though the details were quickly beginning to fade. The Doctor had been in it, and oddly Rigsy. Clara remembered being chased by a big black raven that seemed to grow larger and larger the more she tried to outrun it. Clara took a few deep breaths to steady herself, letting the false sense of fear slowly dwindle. Nightmares about being chased were hardly surprising with her current circumstances.

Head pounding, she sat up, trying to take stock. She was still alive, which was good, but the room appeared to be empty. That was less good. Evening shadows crept across the floor, the little window a rapidly dimming source of light. Missy had probably just stepped out in the hall for a moment, Clara reasoned with herself. It was just that it was the first time since leaving with Missy that Clara hadn't woken to the Time Lady in, usually uncomfortably, close proximity. She scanned the room again, her eyes falling on the now empty metal desk. The remains of torn tech nowhere to be seen

Missy was gone.

Clara fought a shiver of fear that slid down her spine. She didn't like the fact, but she needed Missy. If Missy had decided to abandon her, Clara knew she was as good as dead. No, absolutely not. Everything was fine. The tattoo thing had happened again, and she was still alright. Missy could have just as easily not interfered if she no longer wished to bother with Clara. She seemed almost fanatically determined to keep Clara breathing, in fact, so Clara couldn't quite believe that Missy had just bailed on her. Clara scolded herself into thinking logically. Traveling with anyone else and Clara might have assumed they’d just gone looking for dinner, but Missy didn't consider things like that. She had most likely gone out after the crystal, Clara realized with a wince. She held out a foolish hope that Missy had not decided to ignore her earlier agreement of not killing the vendor. Clara knew the odds there were probably not that good.

 _The bell!_ Clara recalled suddenly.

She remembered the horrified look in Missy’s eyes at Clara's pronouncement that she couldn't hear it. Given that Clara had only seen real fear in Missy when dealing with an entire planet full of Daleks, Clara didn't really feel that the sound was a good thing. Hearing things was usually a bad sign, and Missy had looked properly afraid before the tattoo had burned away Clara's awareness for the third time. It had not been the fear of some fresh new monster, however. It was the horror of an old fear that had returned anew.

It was hard to picture Missy having fears. Skaro was understandable, from what little the Doctor had told her of the Time War, such a reaction was probably seared into the hearts of every Time Lord. Fearing that made sense. Picturing Missy with personal fears was a little harder to do. Missy was such a indomitable personality that Clara had never once stopped to consider it. Which, Clara realized with an uncomfortable pang of guilt, might have been unfair of her. Before this whole mess, Missy had just been in neat little box in Clara's head labeled: Crazy Insane Supervillain, avoid at all costs.

This is not to say that Clara was beginning to think she had completely misjudged the Time Lady. Missy was very much an insane supervillain, but Clara realized she had never once pondered the why of that fact. The Doctor’s stubborn attachment to her had to come from more than just the fact they were the same species. Nobody was born evil, but hating was far easier than empathizing. Clara was a little ashamed of having fallen into that trap herself.

Clara stood up, grabbing her backpack as she headed to the door. She’d ask someone in the lodging house lobby if they'd seen Missy leave. If there was some luck on her side, Clara wouldn’t be too late to keep Missy from indulging any homicidal tendencies. She jumped every other step on her way down the stairs, the rubber soles on her boots squeaking loudly on the polished floors as she rounded the corner into the lobby. The same plump young teenager from when Missy had checked them in was still minding the front desk. She was wearing a telepathic translator the same as Clara. All the staff had been, much to Clara’s joy.

“Hello,” Clara said, walking over to the girl at the front desk. Her name tag read Sedji.

“Hello, miss!” The girl replied happily. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Actually, have you seen the woman I checked in with?” Clara asked, trying not to get emotional over being understood by someone not Missy.

“The Lady in the pretty purple dress?” Sedji asked.

Clara nodded. “That would be her.”

“Oh, yes miss.” Sedji replied, bouncing a little in her seat. “She said to tell you she’d be back shortly if you came asking. She’s a real Lady isn't she? Like the ones from the City.”

“Er, yes. I suppose she is.” Clara stumbled.

It looked like someone had a bit of a crush. Hopefully the poor girl would never figure how bad of an idea that was.

“Did you want to see any of the tourist sights? I know them all, miss. The Ruins of the Ghauli, Petergon Park, and the museum is doing a weekly legend feature this month. It's the Bell of Faen this week.” Sedji offered quickly.

“No thanks,” Clara started, “if you could just point me in...hang on. The Bell of Faen? What’s that?”

“It’s an old legend, miss, about the Ghauli race who used to live here. They say it will ring again when the ancient foe of the Ghauli rises from the mountains once more. I think it’s a bit silly, since the bell doesn't even have a clapper in it.”

Clara blinked at the girl, her mind whirling through the possibilities. Was _that_ Missy's bell? Hadn’t she said earlier that the Ghauli used telepathic tech? Which Clara would assume included any sort of security system they might have used.

“Oh!” Sedji exclaimed suddenly, knocking Clara loose from her thoughts. “Hello, milady!”

Clara didn't need to turn around to know that Missy had returned. She did so anyways. Missy looked her up and down in an assessing manner.

“Feeling better, Poppet?” Missy asked Clara.

Clara smiled hesitantly at Missy. Now was probably not the best time to ask if she’d killed someone.

“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks.” She said instead. “Actually, I was thinking we should go to the museum.”

Missy gave her an incredulous look. “You want to go sight seeing?”

The Time Lady reached out a hand and placed it on Clara's forehead.

“You don't _feel_ feverish.”

Clara made a face and knocked the hand away.

“No really, Sedji here was telling me an interesting story about this _ancient Ghauli bell_ they have there,” Clara stressed pointedly.

Missy blinked at her for a moment. “Ghauli bell?” She repeated slowly, as if the idea had come as a complete surprise to her.

Clara nodded. “You said that the Ghauli used tele…ack!”

Missy had grabbed Clara by the arm and was bodily hauling her in the direction of the door.

“Missy! Let me go, I'm capable of walking just fine on my own!” Clara hissed.

Sedji called out after them, a touch forlornly. “Didn't you want a brochure, milady?”

“I think we're alright, thanks,” Clara managed to reply as Missy steered her through the exit.

“Do you even know where the museum is?” Clara asked once they were out on the street and she had freed her arm from Missy’s grip.

“Of course I do,” Missy replied.

“The bell is telepathic, right?” Clara asked. “That’s why you can hear it and I can’t.”

Missy often liked to walk fast to annoy Clara, but she was having to half-jog to keep up with the Time Lady this time.

“That is what I would like to make sure of,” Missy agreed, her voice still sounding a little tense.

Clara wanted to ask what about it had frightened Missy so badly, but Clara figured she probably didn’t have the right to that question.

They were heading deeper into Hath and away from the marketplace. One by one, stained glass globes lit up until the street was awash with multicolored light in the face of the night. Clara had a certain appreciation for the people who seemed determine to make everything here both functional and aesthetically pleasing. She made a mental note to have the Doctor take her back here, when this was all over. Clara kept up with Missy in silence for a few streets, pondering a delicate way to phrase the other question she had.

“He’s fine,” the Time Lady said suddenly.

Clara stumbled slightly on a paver. “Sorry?”

“That silly little tech vendor I can see you fretting over,” Missy clarified in an amused drawl. “I left him completely functional and none the wiser.”

Clara felt some of the weight lift off her shoulders at this pronouncement. Missy _had_ spared him, more than that, she had actually kept her word to Clara. She touched Missy’s arm, the Time Lady halting and tilting her head to face Clara.

“Thank you,” Clara said, when she was certain she had Missy’s attention. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but thank you.”

Missy pursed her lips, considering Clara’s words. Clara found herself caught in the woman's ice-blue gaze, once again unable to look away. Clara had seen stars that burned that color before.

“I don’t understand you,” the Time Lady said eventually, not sounding pleased about it.

Clara gave her an uncertain smile, unsure how to take the statement. There were layers of meaning in it that she couldn’t quite grasp.

“The feeling is mutual?” She offered at last.

Missy chuckled at that, the tension easing away. “Come Puppy, let’s see this Ghauli bell. I have a crystal to install still tonight.”

 

***

 

The sound of the bell grew louder the closer they drew to the museum. A Ghauli bell, telepathic technology, why hadn’t she considered that in the first place? Missy didn’t like the fact that she had allowed her own fears to even briefly get the best of her. She’d been so hesitant to use her telepathy since she had rid herself of the Time Lords’ curse, so afraid of being pulled back into the role of the High Council’s puppet. Locating the settlement had been her first time dropping her psychic shields since she had left Gallifrey again and as if in proof of her fears there rose another sound she alone could hear. _Diseased_ , Rassilon had called her. They had destroyed her life and then cursed her for what she had become as if they had held no part in it. Missy choked back her rage at the memories. Now was not the time. Once she had Clara sorted properly, Missy was headed back to Gallifrey and between her and the Doctor, Rassilon would face a reckoning.

Missy glanced over at the human walking beside her, a tiny brunette conundrum that Missy hadn’t seen coming. It wasn’t that soft touch on the arm and thank you that had Missy so confused and stumbling over her original assessment of the human as “perfect to drive the Doctor to a bad decision or twelve” and nothing more. Missy had expected Clara to shy away after realizing that Missy was hearing something she didn’t. That would have been the predictable, human reaction to such a circumstance. Missy’s own people had turned away from her for that reason, even the Doctor had. Instead, the Puppy had gone out to try and figure out _why_ Missy was hearing a bell no one else could.

“Missy? Can I ask you a question?” Clara asked quietly.

“I believe you just did,” Missy pointed out.

Clara rolled her eyes. Missy would admit she tried as often as she could to provoke that reaction in the human.

“A specific, tattoo-thing related question?”

“If you feel you must,” Missy sighed.

“Who is chasing us?”

Missy had never outright said that they were being actively chased, but she was not surprised that Clara had worked it out.

“Something we definitely don’t want catching up to us,” Missy said after a lengthy internal debate.

So far, the Puppy hadn’t seemed to regain more than disjointed fragments of her missing memories. Missy wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of the regeneration energy, the failed tech she had attempted to use, or the temporal distortions. It might even be a result of a combination of them. In any case, Missy didn’t feel the need to inform Clara of her own brief demise. Humans got rather worked up over the subject, Missy had observed.

“Are you ever going to tell me what?” Clara asked exasperatedly.

“We can talk about it more tonight, Poppet,” Missy said.

“Really?”

Missy gave the human a flat look.

“Nevermind,” Clara muttered.

The Hath Historical Museum was a single story, sprawling building that took up the entirety of the side of the street it was on. Missy lead them through the doors and around the displays with an unerring sense of direction. With each step the bell rang louder. In a place of pride, surrounded by an artful display board detailing its history, sat the Bell of Faen. Missy came to a stop before it, nails resting lightly against the glass as she glared at it. The bell continued to chime as if in mockery of her.

“For some reason I imagined it would be bigger,” Clara said.

Missy snorted, glancing at the human in wry amusement. Clara was looking back at her with the tiniest of smiles. The bell was much smaller than its tone suggested, only about the size of Clara's head. It was made of a smooth dark metal, probably the storm-iron that Ghaul’s moons were so well known for.

“Do you think it’s been ringing this whole time and no one could hear it?” Clara asked.

“Possibly,” Missy admitted. “You humans can be rather deaf to the things that go on around you all the time.”

Clara only laughed at the insult. “You think that's bad? Try teaching a classroom full of twelve year olds. Selective hearing on a whole new level, believe me.”

Clara moved over to the display board, watching as the holographic images and text cycled through their information. She turned back to the bell, biting her lip and fumbling with the little dial on her translator.

“What are you doing, Puppy?” Missy asked curiously.

“Testing a theory,” Clara replied, turning the translator up four clicks past the basic setting, the glowing cabochon turning red to announce that she had it turned up higher than legal regulations.

“I can hear it now,” Clara said and promptly made a face. “That has to get annoying really fast.”

“Indeed.”

Missy smiled thinly and reached out to turn the human's translator back down. Clara shot her a confused look. Clara’s little experiment had done wonders to ease the last of the tightness in Missy’s chest, but it wasn't good for the human to have the translator turned up. Besides, of the two of them, Missy was better prepared to deal with invasive, obnoxious sounds.

“Let's keep to one crazy person per duo, shall we, dear?” Missy clicked her tongue at Clara.

Clara laughed. “Don't worry, nobody's going to be dethroning you as Queen of Crazy anytime soon.”

“You flatter me, Poppet,” Missy said with faux coyness.

Clara had already moved back to studying the display. “Only because you have the strangest notion of compliments.”

The human frowned again, suddenly. “What do you suppose the ‘ancient foe of the Ghauli’ was?”

“Some sort of blood-bathed monster from the mountains. It was their version of the boogeyman.” Missy replied. “Hardly original.”

“The bell’s probably ringing to warn everyone you're here, then,” Clara said.

Missy clutched at her hearts in mock hurt. Clara smirked at her, but there was no cruelty in either of their expressions. Missy was beginning to think she might have been a bit hasty in passing Clara along to the Doctor so quickly. She wasn't one to keep pets the way the Doctor did, but Clara was proving far more interesting and capable than she had originally considered. It was a thought to keep in mind, the Mistress decided, once Clara had accomplished what Missy had planned for the Doctor.

The only warning Missy had was a shiver of sensation across her skin, the tiniest of ripples of an event across the threads of time around them. Missy lunged forward, grabbing the human by the waist and dragging her into the nearest doorway.

A roar of sound suddenly exploded through the air, the ground seeming to roll beneath their feet. Missy pressed Clara against the doorframe, shielding the human's smaller body with her own, as the ground beneath them continued to buck and roll. Windows rattled in their frames and the glass display cases began to shatter one by one under the force of the earthquake. Missy could feel Clara's heart racing in fear, and she tucked the human more securely under her chin. Honestly, hadn’t the human worked out that Missy wasn't going to let anything else kill her by now?

 

***

 

Clara had never been in an earthquake before. She’d seen enough video of their aftermath to be understandably afraid of being caught in one, however. She couldn't help the slight whimper that escaped her and she fisted her hands tight enough in Missy's coat that she had probably pinched skin. The Mistress pressed her more firmly against the doorframe in response. This wasn't the same as having a homicidal tattoo, Clara rationalized her fear. There was little Missy could do against a force of nature, as much as the Time Lady would likely pretend otherwise. Things were crashing to the floor all around them, the metal walls screaming as they warped under the strain. Another case seemingly exploded, showering them with bits of glass. Clara tried to huddle even closer to Missy. All her earlier thoughts about the appropriate levels of human/Time Lady contact cast aside in her instinctive fear.

The ground stopped it's shaking as suddenly as it had started. Clara kept her face pressed against Missy's shoulder, letting the familiar sound of an unfamiliar doubled heartbeat soothe her. So sue her if she need a moment to regroup after her first earthquake. Clara felt Missy's arms loosen around her and Clara let the Time Lady pull away from the embrace. Right. Appropriate levels of contact.

“Apparently it was an earthquake warning,” Missy noted dryly.

The Time Lady was brushing shards of glass from her clothes and hair with a disgusted expression. A few of her dark curls had fallen loose from her efforts.

“It’s going to take me hours to pin this back in place,” Missy complained loudly, pulling one curl away from where it had fallen against her face to examine it.

Clara kept her back molded against the door frame. “Bell not ringing any more?”

Clara’s ears certainly were.

“Nope,” Missy replied, surveying the carnage around them with an inappropriate smile.

“You alright, my Clara?” Missy asked when she realized Clara was still trying to merge with the doorpost.

“Yeah, perfectly fine,” Clara replied.

Missy just shook her head. “Planning to make a home there then?”

Home. All those homes they had passed on their way to the museum. What had become of the rest of Hath?

Clara forced herself away from the doorway. “There are probably people hurt, we should help,” she said.

If there was one skill she had learned from traveling with the Doctor, it was definitely how to override her own fears.

“Help?” Missy repeated flatly. “Don't confuse me with the other one, Clara. The locals can sort this out on their own.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Okay, you stand there and look decorative and _I'll_ go see how I can help.”

Clara turned and began carefully picking her way through the rubble towards the door. Today had been the same sort of adrenaline filled roller coaster that an adventure with the Doctor was, and that familiarity was probably feeding into Clara’s recklessness again. Dormant though it had been for the past week, Clara felt the urge to press every boundary whispering beneath her skin once more.

“You misunderstood me, Puppy,” Missy called after her in a deceptively pleasant tone. “Neither of us will be helping.”

Clara turned around, her arms folded stubbornly across her chest. Missy could be as pleased by the suffering as she liked, but she was not going to prevent Clara from doing what was right.

“Oh? How exactly do you plan to stop me?” Clara challenged.

Missy gave her a scarlet painted smirk and raised her vortex manipulator up in front of her keying in a few commands.

“Yours is linked to mine, remember?” The Time Lady singsonged.

“Missy, no!” Clara had time to yelp before she was flung headlong into the time vortex against her will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walls have begun to topple, judgements are being reassesed, and so our brave heroes step out of the land of disdain and disgust and wade firmly into denial.
> 
> Next time, Missy won't find running away from a mess so easy...


	5. Red Light, Green Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a staring contest and part of an overdue conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My life is insanity right now...  
> thankfully that is what they invented fiction for!
> 
> I switched to order of chapters 5 & 6 mostly because it allows me to set up the plot of the next chapter much cleaner if I do this one first. And they really needed to talk. Ish.

5\. Red Light, Green Light

 

Clara played with the long, thin cylinder that hung about her neck. Unremarkable, for all its importance. She rolled it back and forth between her fingers, sometimes twisting the lanyard it was strung on so far up she could feel the pressure on her throat. She had become almost hyper aware of it since Missy had finished the field generator and tossed it to Clara with a casual “if I try the other trick again it will probably kill you.”

Clara did not doubt her statement.

Missy hadn't explained anything to her still, and Clara was beginning to doubt she ever would. She seemed almost desperate for Clara to not ask again. They were being chased, someone was trying to _kill_ her and Clara didn't know if it was because of the Doctor or Missy or even herself. Clara wasn't sure if she was ready for an answer the Mistress didn't want to share. No matter how bad Clara wanted it.

She had been running with Missy for twenty-two days by Clara's perception, hopping from planet to time zone as if the hounds hell were behind them. She couldn't remember how long she'd been with the Doctor before that; a Wednesday trip or the longer ones she'd been coaxing from him since that Christmas. She didn't know when she'd last seen home.

 _Home is lost_ , her heart whispered softly to her in the silences between waking and sleeping. _Home is lost. You may return, but you cannot go back._

Clara didn't know if she’d make it home this time.

Clara twisted the lanyard high again until the cord bit into her neck, grounding her to the present. They did not now hop away again the moment the cooldown on their manipulators ended, but Missy had kept them steadily on the move. Clara did not object to the pace. Missy manufactured trouble with the same ease that the Doctor fell into it and Clara's waking moments were never dull. Missy could not abide boredom and even in the moments of downtime pressed Clara's buttons for her own entertainment. Clara was aware that this was as much a distraction tactic as the constant movement was, but she didn't fully care anymore. Missy wasn't dragging her from planet to planet; Clara was running just as fast and fervently as Doctor did now. In motion, in petty annoyance, in danger and fear, even in her nightmares filled with night black feathers and the Doctor’s agonized face there was no room for the whispers. No time or attention to give the voice that said _you cannot go back._

Like the Doctor, she would run until she reached a place where she could turn around and fight.

“Penny for your thoughts, Poppet?” Missy’s honeyed tone pulled Clara's attention fully to the present.

Clara stretched out her legs to ease them from the cramped position she'd been sitting in. She accepted the elegant hand outstretched to pull her to her feet. Clara smiled slightly at the Time Lady, the hand withdrawn as soon as she was upright. The contact between them remained on Missy’s terms, but rare, kinder gestures had showed up amidst the irritated pokes and rough grabbing. Clara knew better than to draw attention to them. She knew better than to read into them either. Missy was trying to honor their deal to be civil, in her own way. When it suited her.

“I was trying to figure out my next lesson plan for when I get back,” Clara lied easily.

Twenty-two days had formed a certain camaraderie between them, but that was nothing like trust.

“Hmm,” Missy acknowledged with tone that implied she was no longer interested. “Ready to go?”

They had spent the last day and a half on a lush, uninhabited planet. Clara had spent the time sleeping mostly, or climbing the towering trees around her just to see how high she could get. That Missy had vanished almost immediately into the woods for a few hours no longer worried Clara. The Mistress had returned as night had fallen looking far too put together for someone with a dead animal slung over her shoulder. Clara fervently did not want the details of her hunt. It had been delicious, however. For all of the peace, Clara was itching to be on the move again.

“Yeah, just double checking things,” Clara replied, digging through her backpack to make sure she had repacked everything.

Satisfied that her newly acquired 43rd century emergency kit was stowed away with her other acquired belongings, Clara slipped her arms through the straps. She was dressed in her own clothes again today, and the khaki military pack looked out of place against the grey and black fabrics. Missy had her arms folded, one boot tapping impatiently against the dirt.

“Where to next?” Clara asked, settling the bag more comfortably before stepping closer to Missy.

“Alpha Praxa. I need an old ion bombshell, the black market there should have it,” Missy replied, keying in the coordinates as she spoke.

Clara blinked. “Right, because everyone needs one of those.”

Missy smirked at her. “Off we go, Poppet.”

Clara fit an anxious hand around the temporal field generator as Missy activated their manipulators.

 

***

 

Clara missed the TARDIS more with each jump they made, her insides always felt twisted around as they exited the Vortex. She was grateful that Missy generally stuck to short hops in terms of physical and temporal distance. Clara didn't fancy the idea of what a long hop would feel like. It was late afternoon when they landed on Alpha Praxa, a heavy wind gusting Clara’s bangs into her eyes. She brushed them back with impatient fingers and took stock of her surroundings. Grass and green moss against damp stone; the smell of wet dirt and decaying plant matter filled her nostrils.

“Did we land in a graveyard?” Clara asked, spinning in a quick circle to confirm. “Do they run the black market out of a graveyard?”

That seemed a tad morbid, if fitting, to Clara.

“Don’t be silly, the black market is run out of a self-storage facility in the waterfront district,” Missy scoffed. “Never advertise your mode of transportation, Clara, or else you could find your enemies waiting for you at your exit point.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Clara replied dryly.

“Always assume you’ll end up being chased,” Missy tutted, as they set out across the graveyard.

“Especially when traveling with Time Lords,” Clara added cheekily.

Missy flashed her a mischievous grin. They were walking close enough that their shoulders would occasionally brush against each other, but Clara made no movie to establish distance. She smiled to herself in wry amusement at the realization that she was starting to to get _comfortable_ around the Mistress.

The afternoon light cast long shadows between the grey stone mausoleums and headstones as they walked. The fine hairs on the back of Clara’s neck prickled and she chided herself for getting spooked by a graveyard. The not-ghosts were still too fresh in her mind to be as comfortable with such places as she one was. She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck to ease the feeling, thinking about about the mark she could not feel as she did so.

Missy caught the movement.

“Tattoo isn’t bothering you again, is it?” Missy asked intently.

Clara shook her head. “No, my mind is just being silly. The graveyard is creeping me out a bit, is all.”

Missy nodded. “Do let me know if that changes, Puppy.”

“You’d be the first to know,” Clara agreed fervently.

An outstretched arm blocked Clara from making her next step. Clara tilted her head to see what Missy wanted now, but the Time Lady was staring fixedly across an open stretch of grass dotted with headstones. Missy snarled something in a language Clara didn’t recognize but was obviously an expletive. Her attention was fixed on a statue standing between two of the worn grave markers. It was an angel, lamenting into its carved stone palms.

“What’s wrong?” Clara hissed, looking between Missy and the statue.

“See that statue?” Missy asked, still not looking away from it.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It’s not a statue.”

“Oh. Trouble?”

“Potentially,” Missy replied in one of the more serious tones she had ever used.

Clara swallowed. “If it’s not a statue, then what is it?”

“Keep your eyes on it, Clara. It can’t move as long as we are looking at it.”

“Okay,” Clara fixed her eyes on the statue several meters away. “Still want to know what it is, and what happens if we aren’t looking at it.”

“They are called the Lonely Assassins or the Weeping Angels. The way they usually hunt would normally be no more than an inconvenience to us, but they are a failing race and desperation breeds inventiveness and cruelty in equal measure.” Missy said. “Ask the Doctor how he lost his last set of pets sometime.”

Clara was very certain she didn’t want to poke at the Doctor’s wounds like that, but she got Missy’s point.

“Why can’t it move, then?”

“Quantum lock defense mechanism. They become stone when observed and only then. Otherwise they can move unbelievably fast. Don’t let them touch you, and try not to blink.”

Right, because that’s easy. “So how do we get away from it?”

“Getting off the planet is about the only option, I’m far tastier prey than anything else that lives here so no chance of just feeding it someone else.” Missy sounded petulant about the fact.

“Wait, are we stuck staring at this thing for the next four hours?” Clara yelped.

“Keep your eyes on it, I need to make sure...Clara turn around!”

Clara whirled around at the sudden order and swallowed back a scream of surprise. A snarling face in grey stone stared back at her, a clawed hand outstretched towards Missy. The angel was close enough that its reaching arm hovered over Clara’s left shoulder.

“There’s another one,” Clara said in tense alarm.

Her heart was racing at the jolt of fear and adrenaline that had lanced through her system. Too close. It was far too close. Instinctively she reached behind her, feeling for where Missy was at. A cool hand wrapped around her own. Clara breathed out.

“Focus on its chin, Clara, not its eyes. You don’t want it crawling into your brain.” Missy instructed. “Don’t blink and back away slowly.”

A tug on their joined hands had Clara stepping cautiously backwards, eyes watering from the unnatural strain. One step, and then another, until there was a good meter between Clara and the second angel. Clara closed one eye and then the other, trying to ease the burning without looking away.

“There is a mausoleum to my right,” Missy said. “We need to put our backs against something solid.”

Clara nodded before belatedly realizing that Missy couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

Another firm tug on her hand and she and Missy cautiously shuffled sideways. They probably would have looked ridiculous to someone watching, but they felt out each step carefully as they went. Clara was certain that neither of them could afford a misstep now. She hadn’t taken a good look around, and had no idea how far over the mausoleum was. The scuff of her left shoe against a stone step was filled with relief. They now had line of sight on both angels.

“I’m going to open the mausoleum door, keep eyes on them while I do.” Missy said from behind Clara, tugging her hand free.

Clara swallowed. Her eyes were stinging, and she wasn’t sure how much longer her awkward winking would be able to last. She hoped Missy had a better plan than to keep staring at them indefinitely. The sound of rusted metal hinges swinging open grated through the air. A few tense moments of silence passed before Clara felt a pair hands come to rest on her shoulders.

“Rest your eyes, my Clara, I’ve got them for the moment,” Missy said softly.

Clara obeyed instantly, ignoring the odd urge to lean back into the woman behind her, comforted by the gesture.

 

***

 

Weeping Angels, of all the races they could have encountered it had to be them. Missy scowled at the statues-for-the-moment. While she was probably the most interesting meal they’d come across in a while, it was Clara that concerned her more. The position of the second Angel left little doubt that it had deliberately reached _over_ Clara for her. No Angel would just ignore prey, which meant that it could sense the quantum shade’s mark on Clara. If the Angels could alert the quantum shade to Clara’s location before their manipulators were off cooldown, Missy would be helpless to stop it. The very notion infuriated her. Clara was _hers,_ and Missy had put far too much effort into this to lose now. Eyes still locked on the Angels, Missy slid her hands along Clara’s shoulders to gently brush where the tattoo sat with her thumbs. Missy did not have any intentions of losing.

“Get inside the mausoleum,” Missy instructed after letting Clara close her eyes for a few moments. “I don’t want to be flanked again.”

A short telepathic sweep revealed no other minds close by, but Missy wasn’t going to take unnecessary chances in this situation.

“Yeah, okay, good idea.”

Clara pulled away and ducked around Missy, heading into the mausoleum.

Missy backed carefully up the steps into the doorway.

“So tell me you have an actual plan,” Clara said once they were side by side in the bottleneck of the door.

“We’ll have to take it in turns,” Missy replied, lips pursed in annoyance. “Nightfall is my largest concern at the moment.”

“Keep looking at them is seriously the best plan we have?”

“There is no other plan to deal with Weeping Angels, they are either stone or they kill you.” Missy replied.

“And how exactly do they kill you?”

“Traditionally they throw you back in time and let history kill you, feeding on the wasted potential energy.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, I mean we have our manipulators…”

“I did say traditionally if you were paying attention, Puppy,” Missy replied. “I’m more concerned that they will alert your pursuers to our location.”

Clara let out a stubborn growl at that. “Okay, Now I really think it’s time you told me what the hell is after me!”

Missy sighed heavily. The Puppy _would_ pick now to force the conversation.

“Very well, watch the Angels,” Missy capitulated.

Once she was certain that Clara had eyes on the Angels, Missy let her own close. Not blinking was unfortunately just as uncomfortable for Time Lords as it was for humans. Missy did another telepathic sweep, mostly for the sheer pleasure of using it free of influence and fear. Clara’s mind was surprisingly bright and complex for a human, it’s proximity like a tiny sun to Missy’s psychic senses. She was growing unaccountably attached to its presence, which was a thought she was going to have to seriously address at some point in the future. Missy had to remind herself that she had _plans_ for Clara. Plans that did not include keeping her.

“Missy?” Clara prompted.

“It’s called a quantum shade, the creature that is hunting you. I’m not sure how you got entangled with it. I suppose it was to get you out of the way while its handlers focused on the Doctor.” Missy replied. “If it catches you, your death will be quick and your afterlife unaccountably painful.”

“What does that mean?” Clara said in a strangled tone.

Missy opened one eye to regard the human next to her, pleased to see that Clara was still focused on the Angels.

“Time, Space, Life and Death, such barriers mean little to something that lives in the abstract world of quantum principles. The fact of your physical death means little because it can stretch that moment in your consciousness to an eternity of agony.” Missy replied.

“Oh,” Clara’s voice was faint. “Okay, definitely want to avoid that happening.”

Missy was not about to tell her that it technically already _had_ happened. That would require an explanation that she was not prepared to give.

“Which is why we keep our little friends there locked up in their stone prisons until we can run again,” Missy continued brightly. “Don’t fret, Poppet. I do have a plan to remove the mark, then we’ll rescue the Doctor from whatever idiocy he has gotten himself into this time and back to your life.”

Clara was quiet for a moment. “Not that I’m not grateful, Missy, because I really am, but why _are_ you helping me?”

“I told you, my Clara, no one gets to kill you but me,” Missy replied.

A frustrated sigh, Clara obviously unsatisfied with the answer. Surprisingly, the human chose not to press further.

“Can we switch? My eyes won’t stop watering,” she said instead.

Missy opened her eyes to watch the Angels. Deep shadows were dominating the graveyard now in the rapidly failing light. The sun was starting to slip lower in the sky. They were going to lose the daylight soon and Missy wasn’t carrying a light source that the Angels wouldn’t simply be able to switch off. They still had most of the four hour cooldown left.

“I’m watching them,” Missy said shortly.

Clara was silent next to her, the bright point of her consciousness flickering and racing as she turned over the information Missy had given her. It was inviting in way that the Time Lady knew it really shouldn't be. Missy was contemplating the temptation of entering Clara’s mind, dipping in to view the human’s actual thoughts, when a small hand slipped into Missy’s left.

“I know I’m being silly and human, but please, just let me hold your hand,” Clara said.

Missy hesitated briefly, before allowing her own fingers close about Clara’s hand. The action cost her nothing Missy supposed. The human's skin was warmer than her own, denoting the differing body temperatures. Clara’s hand was too small for her fingers to close fully around Missy's and the Time Lady could feel the fine tremors that ran up Clara's arm easing off.

“You humans find this comforting?” Missy asked curiously.

An amused snort and a gentle flex of fingers. “Generally, yeah. Not a Time Lord thing, I guess?”

“Decidedly not.”

Intimacy to her species was entirely on an intellectual level. Time Lords as a race were not encouraged to be the touchy-feely sort; physical contact as method of comfort was a strange concept to Missy. It was not, however, a completely unpleasant one. At least where Clara was concerned. Missy was not about to go holding hands with every nanobrain she tripped over the way the Doctor did, but she was willing to indulge Clara for the moment.

“It’s going to be dark before we can make another hop isn’t it?” Clara asked.

“Sunset in an hour, full dark perhaps another thirty minutes after that,” Missy said by way of answer. “Alpha Praxa has a faster rotation than earth.”

“Okay, I suppose my emergency kit is going to come in handy sooner than than I thought then,” Clara said with a wry laugh. “And you laughed at me for wanting it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Missy had to fight the impulse to give the human a sharp look.

“Emergency flares? Those should give us enough light to last the cooldown at least. If not I think there were a couple of glow sticks as well.”

Combustion and phosphorescent light sources were not something that could be simply switched off. Missy grinned widely. She rewarded the human with firm squeeze of their linked hands.

“Oh very clever, Clara. Yes, those will do nicely.”

“Was that an actual complement?”

“I’m not above acknowledging the ideas of others when it’s warranted,” Missy sniffed.

She could feel Clara’s amusement next to her.

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” Clara boasted.

Missy couldn’t resist. “Well, of course you aren’t. Who ever said your face was pretty?”

“Oy! If we weren’t engaged in a life or death game of Statues, I’d smack you for that.”

Missy snorted.

“You could _try,_ ” the Time Lady conceded.

 

***

 

Four flares were arranged in a semicircle on the mausoleum steps holding back the dark with hisses and pops. The two Angels were frozen just on the edge of the ring of light, clawed hands outstretched and grey faces caught in a snarling rictus. Clara and Missy sat shoulder to shoulder in the doorway. Clara was sitting cross-legged while Missy had both her legs stretched forward putting her skirt hem dangerously close to the flickering flares in Clara’s opinion. It was probably on purpose, knowing Missy. It was Clara’s turn at watch and her eyes were aching from the unnatural strain of their minute-long rotations. Her free hand fiddled anxiously with the lanyard of her temporal field generator.

Missy hadn't objected to Clara taking her hand again after they had set the flares and Clara tried not to think about the fact that she’d been holding hands for the last few hours with someone who had repeatedly stated she was planning to kill her at some point. Clara also tried not to think about the fact that she wasn’t sure if she completely believed Missy about that anymore. Clara was getting very good at not thinking about certain things.

“What was the Doctor like when he was young?” Clara asked, if only to break the silence that had settled between them.

She was mostly uncomfortable with the fact that the silence _wasn’t_ uncomfortable.

“More or less the same,” Missy replied. “The Doctor is always the Doctor.”

“You were schoolmates though, yeah? What was that like?”

“We were called the Deca,” Missy spoke after a moment. “None of us quite fit in with the mainstream of Gallifrey’s society for a number of different reasons. The Doctor was the youngest; none of us wanted much to do with him at first, but he was so brilliant. He could run circles around half of our teachers if he cared to actually pay attention to the lessons. Which was rarely.”

Clara had no trouble picturing a young Doctor ignoring his schoolwork, already impatient and exasperated with the people who were supposed to be teaching him. It was a situation every teacher ran into at some point.

“A lot of brilliant kids are like that,” she mused. “They get bored with the ordinary lessons because nothing challenges them.”

“He was quite good at inventing his own challenges,” Missy replied.

Clara snorted. “I bet he was. Get you into trouble often, did he?”

Missy gave her hand a squeeze to let her know that it was okay to close her eyes again.

“Daily,” Missy agreed.

Clara wanted to ask what had happened, ask what had caused their lives to take such separate paths, but she doubted Missy would tell her. She doubted if Missy even really knew herself.

“The Doctor may be mad, but I’m completely insane, Clara. _That’s_ why we drifted apart.” Missy stated.

Clara opened her eyes to stare incredulously at Missy.

“Did you just read my mind?”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself; your thought processes are not that hard to predict,” Missy scoffed.

Clara decided to let that pass and took up her turn at watch again.

“I don’t think you’re are as insane as you pretend you are,” she said after a long internal debate.

“I pretend nothing,” Missy said flatly. “I would suggest you not operate under any other assumption.”

There was a world of pain implied in that careful tone that stabbed at Clara’s heart. Her instinct was to reach out to comfort Missy, but she restrained herself. The Mistress would react badly to anything she would only perceive as pity. Clara didn’t pity her, but she felt a growing desire to understand this woman who killed without compunction yet held the hand of a single human she was going out of her way to try and save. Just because Clara had asked. That wasn't insanity. Clara had no idea _what_ it was. Yet.

Fate had made companions of them and Clara wondered what would become of it if she actually tried to befriend Missy. Clara thought _she_ might be the insane one for trying it. Not that it would be enough to stop her.

“You said you had a plan to get this tattoo off of me?” Clara prompted, accepting the tacit request for a change of subject.

“I do.”

Missy indicated they should switch watch again. Clara wiped at her watering eyes before closing them. The four hours had to be nearly up. She drew absent patterns on the back of Missy’s hand with her thumb.

“And what is this grand plan of yours?”

“We’re going to build a dummy of sorts, forcibly extract the mark and transfer it, then chuck the dummy in the vortex for the quantum shade to chase for all of eternity,” Missy explained shortly.

That sounded like a surprisingly solid plan to Clara. Where Missy was concerned nothing was that easy, however.

“I get the feeling that's not going to be as simple as you are currently making it sound.”

“Where would be the fun in _that_?”

“I'm still back on the description ‘forcibly,’” Clara replied.

“That will be the real challenge,” Missy agreed. “I will need very special equipment for that and getting you to it is going to ruffle all sorts of feathers.”

Missy’s cackle was positively gleeful. That was never good. Or safe.

“Where is this equipment located, exactly?”

“And ruin the surprise? Don't be silly, Poppet.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

A soft tonal beep interrupted before Clara could continue. She crossed the fingers of her free hand.

“Please tell me that was the cooldown timer?”

“That was the cooldown timer,” Missy confirmed.

Clara almost sagged in relief. “Best news I've heard all evening; let's get out of here, please.”

Clara let go of Missy’s hand as they awkwardly clambered back to their feet still watching their stone hunters. She missed the sensation almost immediately. Clara closed her fingers around the field generator again to quell the empty feeling in her palm. That decided her. Whatever Missy's motivations were, Clara was going to try and be friends with her.

Clara had started to care about her; it was already too late to do otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by gratuitous hand holding.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, folks.
> 
> Edit (2/19/16): due to unforeseen life circumstances I will be taking a brief hiatus. Posting will resume in March. Apologies and thanks for understanding.


End file.
